


beyond the parallel lines

by endlesshydrangea (bloominsummer)



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Navigation in First Chapter, Rating and Summary in Chapter's Notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26909557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/endlesshydrangea
Summary: EP. IX: วันนี้ฉันจะบอกเธอให้รู้ตัว (today, i will let you know) (Wonwoo/Mingyu)He gets yanked to the side the moment he exits the cab, not in Mingyu’s excitement of showing him what he has in store for them, but because there’s a car coming up right behind their vehicle and Wonwoo was right in its path. Mingyu’s arm around him feels like a fortress, a place in which Wonwoo can let his guard down and be as vulnerable as he wants.And he does want.14/10/20
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Jeon Wonwoo/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 12
Kudos: 134





	1. row your dreams

* * *

**NAVIGATION**

* * *

Episodes:

  1. koi no yokan (E) 
    * Wonwoo/Minghao.
  2. kintsukoroi (T) 
    * Soonyoung/Wonwoo/Mingyu.
  3. untitled (T) 
    * 96z; Junhui/Soonyoung/Wonwoo/Jihoon.
  4. untitled (T) 
    * Soonyoung/Wonwoo/Mingyu.
  5. love on canvas (T) 
    * Wonwoo/Mingyu.
  6. bad clue (M) 
    * Wonwoo/Mingyu.
  7. no complaints for my body, so fluorescent under these lights (M) 
    * Soonyoung/Wonwoo.
  8. in moderato (T) 
    * Wonwoo/Mingyu.
  9. วันนี้ฉันจะบอกเธอให้รู้ตัว (today, i will let you know) 
    * Wonwoo/Mingyu.




	2. koi no yokan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> koi no yokan (n.): A Japanese phrase that refers to the feeling upon first meeting someone that you will inevitably fall in love with them.
> 
> prompt by & written for [@NightlyWolves2](http://twitter.com/NightlyWolves2) <3
> 
> Wonwoo/Minghao  
> Rating: E  
> Words: 2,976  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - College, Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content.

The only person to blame for the situation Minghao finds himself in is himself. Well, maybe himself and Junhui, but mostly himself for trusting Junhui not to play things a little too close to the edge of danger.

Here he stands, in front of the open door of Wonwoo and Mingyu’s shared apartment, Junhui tonguing the inside of his cheek rather obscenely and giving Wonwoo his best… Minghao doesn’t even want to name what face that is he’s making right now. It’s downright crude and Wonwoo looks as unimpressed by Junhui’s antics as ever.

He’s agreed to let Junhui walk him to Mingyu’s place because the older had insisted that he had nothing better to do on this gloomy afternoon. Nothing to do with the fact that Jihoon lives in the same building and it gives Junhui an excuse to pay him a visit at all.

Minghao wonders how many times Junhui has to be rejected to realise that Jihoon is, in fact, not playing hard to get. Rather he’s just not interested in dating at all.

Seems like Wonwoo and his circle of friend have this thing in common.

“Have fuuuun,” Junhui singsongs as he skips down the hallway in the opposite direction of the lift. “Use protection!”

Minghao tries not to chase him and pin him down until Junhui’s entire face turn blue. “Ignore him.”

Offering him a small smile, Wonwoo steps aside to let him in. “Don’t worry about it, I’m used to him.” He closes the door behind Minghao once the younger’s made it safely through the threshold. “You’re a couple of hours early, though.”

He means early for the study session he always has with Mingyu on Fridays. They come to this small arrangement after a turn of serendipitous events revealed that Mingyu’s good with formulas and numbers, Minghao with concepts and memorisation. Minghao decided he liked Mingyu enough, despite the whole puppy-on-a-sugar-high thing he has going for him, and agreed to the first session.

Then, he met Wonwoo, the roommate.

Safe to say the dark-haired man with his cupid’s bow lips and piercing eyes is more than half the reasons why they’re still having the sessions at Mingyu’s place and never once bothered to consider alternative venues. Wonwoo’s said that he didn’t mind them as long as they weren’t making a bigger ruckus compared to the one Mingyu usually makes all on his own. Since Minghao’s quiet, it all works out.

“Just looks like it’s about to rain,” Minghao says eventually, realising a little too late that a beat has passed and the silence hangs awkward in the air between them. Damn it, Junhui. “Didn’t want to getdrenched.”

“Fair enough,” replies Wonwoo easily.

Because everything comes easy for him, obviously.

The older returns to his seat at the kitchen table, a textbook opened above it showing labelled diagrams of a person’s thorax. Minghao takes a moment to absorb the details. Wonwoo doesn’t usually study outside his own room—too much distraction, he says. Maybe it’s the fact that there was no one at home before Minghao came, which then makes him think—

“Should I go?”

Wonwoo looks up at him. “Why? You just got here.”

“I don’t want to bother you or anything,” he gestures to Wonwoo’s study materials. His notes are so neat, hand-written and colour-coded. “If you have an important test to prepare for, I can just come back later.”

“Sit down,” Wonwoo says instead, pulling out a chair next to him for Minghao to take. “Get a head start on Mingyu, it’ll be fun to see his competitive ass try to catch up with you.”

Minghao does as he’s told since Wonwoo’s words and the tone he uses have a certain persuasive undertone to it and Minghao’s never one to refuse them before. He’s not going to start now. It takes his mind thirty seconds to catch up with reality once he’s seated next to Wonwoo because Minghao can now smell the nape of his neck, the soft, fruity scent that’s infiltrating his senses. He swears he can taste candy on his tongue from the thought of licking Wonwoo there alone.

Before he can act on it, Wonwoo’s voice breaks him out of his reverie. “Hey, about what Junhui said earlier.”

He blinks.

“What about it?”

“Mingyu—”

“I don’t like Mingyu,” Minghao cuts in, not wanting Wonwoo to get the wrong idea. “It’s—Junhui was just being his usual self. But I don’t like Mingyu.”

He thinks that’s the extent of Wonwoo’s concern on the matter. A hyung looking out for his dongsaeng, vetting possible romantic partners for him, because that’s what a good hyung does and Wonwoo is definitely a good hyung by any definitions out there.

“Right,” he says lightly, nodding. “Because you like me, right?”

It’s amazing how Minghao doesn’t fall off his seat at an instant upon hearing Wonwoo’s question.

“I…” Minghao trails off, tongue as numb as his entire body feels. “Hyung, I…”

What can he do to get himself out of this? He doesn’t want to lie to Wonwoo, but he doesn’t want to risk their current connection by confessing his feelings either, not when he’s spent an entire semester trying to build a friendship with the older from the ground up, one brick at a time.

Wonwoo stares at him the entire time he’s going through his internal turmoil, his gaze a little inquisitive but so, so bright. As bright as Minghao remembers seeing them for the first time.

“Well, I—”

Eyes dimming, Wonwoo looks away from Minghao. “Don’t worry about it, then. I must’ve read it wrong.”

Wait.

Why does he sound so disappointed? And why are his shoulders drawn in the way they always do when Wonwoo’s having a bad day?

Despite the anxiety that is filling his entire being due to the numerous possibilities of how this situation can turn out badly, Minghao has a more important task at hand that leaves him no room to panic.

Gently, he slides a hand to Wonwoo’s shoulder until the pads of his finger meet bare skin. Out of instinct, or perhaps something more akin to habit, Minghao starts rubbing soothing circles onto the junction between Wonwoo’s neck and shoulders. The tension dissipates out of Wonwoo’s body, fraction by fraction until he lets out a satisfied sigh, but with the sigh comes awareness and then Wonwoo is flinching away from him, leaving Minghao’s hand hanging mid-air.

“You can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Do what?” asks Minghao, a little confused.

“If you don’t like me, then you can’t look at me like _that_ ,” he points an index finger at Minghao’s face, “touch me where it matters when I need it the most and, and just be so _you_ all the damn time.”

“How do I look at you?”

“Like.” Wonwoo blushes before he can continue and it’s a colour Minghao wishes he has on his palette. He’d draw a thousand paintings with that shade alone, gifts them all to Wonwoo for his perusal—whatever he wants to do with them _and_ him. “Like you’re here to see _me_.”

Minghao realises two things at once.

First: the bright glimmer in Wonwoo’s eyes has at some point in time morphed from amicable disposition to hopeful anticipation.

Two: he’s been too busy admiring Wonwoo from afar, like an important Renaissance painting in a museum one can only look at from a safe distance, that he’s completely missed all the micro-expressions the older man displays.

The slight furrowing of his brows, the way they meet in the middle as Wonwoo studies Minghao’s reaction to his words closely. The pink dusting his cheeks, now more prominent than before, spreading to the tips of his ears. The slight downturn of the corners of his mouth, a brace for impact—in the case that a rejection is coming his way.

“Hyung.”

That sounds awfully breathy.

“Hyung,” Minghao tries again. “Do you like me?”

Wonwoo’s lips part slightly and Minghao sees the objection coming from a mile away. He’s about to say that he posed the question first and therefore Minghao owes him an answer before he can ask him a question of his own. Minghao can’t say how he knows but he just does and it’s a wonderful feeling to be able to say so.

“Because I like you,” he adds quickly, but not too quickly that Wonwoo might interpret it differently. “I like you a lot.”

“S-since when?”

“The first time we met, maybe.”

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight,” Wonwoo returns, voice subdued. “You said that once.”

Minghao remembers it rather vividly. He also remembers not having said that to Wonwoo. It was an answer he gave Mingyu one night, when they wrap up studying by drinking beer out in the balcony, the night cold but their stomachs warm from the liquor.

At this moment, all he can imagine is Wonwoo wondering out of his room for a glass of water and stumbling on the two younger men talking about anything and everything in the universe. Did Wonwoo stay longer for more than that snippet of their conversation?

“It wasn’t love at a first sight,” Minghao admits carefully, “but I think it was pretty damn close. I listened to you talk about this book you were reading for almost thirty minutes while Mingyu went out for food. The title was—”

“Miracles of the Namiya General Store,” they both say in unison.

“By the end of it,” continues Minghao, “there was just this voice that warned me that I’ll fall soon. Told me to be ready for it when the day comes.”

Wonwoo blinks slowly, movements a little sluggish, as though his entire concentration is put to processing Minghao’s words.

“Guess what?” Minghao asks him, no longer able to contain his elation.

“What?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he frames Wonwoo’s face in his hands. “But I fell anyway.”

One more thing Minghao realises tonight: Wonwoo is brave where it counts, utterly fearless where it matters. If he had left the task of closing the distance between their lips to Minghao, it might take them forever to get there because he needs Wonwoo to be _sure_ that this is what he wants. But Wonwoo lets their kiss erase all of his uncertainties for him. Minghao smiles against his lips and Wonwoo, with his determination, maps the upward arch of Minghao’s mouth with his tongue.

Minghao pulls back slightly.

“What?”

“Wasn’t expecting that.”

The older tilts his head to the right, waiting.

“But you’re always exceeding expectations anyway,” Minghao gives in and pulls him back in by the collar of his T-shirt.

Wonwoo goes willingly, falls forward until he lands on Minghao’s mouth once again. This time, the tongue that was seeking entry before is granted permission with ease. He presses in closer to Minghao as he depends the kiss and by the time he’s licking the roof of his mouth, Wonwoo’s somehow seated on his lap, half-hard against Minghao’s stomach.

This is months of unresolved tension finding the light at the end of the tunnel—two men stripped bare of their pretences, basking in the revelation that reciprocation is written into their intertwined fates.

He’s not much better either, already straining in his jeans uncomfortably, tenting at the front. Wonwoo’s slim fingers slide into his hair when they separate for air and Minghao moves his mouth to the column of the older’s neck. At first, it’s a kiss to the edge of his jaw, then he trails a path down to his clavicles, bring his teeth out a little there to graze over the prominent bone he finds there.

Minghao feels a shiver, Wonwoo grinding down on him for friction or something else entirely, the reaction gives him the courage to do what he’s wanted to do for a while now: drags his tongue up along the column again.

His hypothesis was right. Wonwoo does taste like candy.

“Sweet,” he comments, smacking his lips for a better taste.

Above him, Wonwoo whines. Minghao’s thought about how he might sound being wrecked like this before, but none of his imagination comes close to the pleasure of being able to finally hear the real thing.

“Minghao.” Wonwoo’s voice his hoarse, like he hasn’t used his throat to speak for a couple of days. “Minghao.”

“Yeah?”

“I really want you to fuck me right now.”

The admission is a surprise to Minghao, but a pleasant surprise after all, as most things are when it comes to Wonwoo. His hips start moving again, drawing faint circles this time, and Minghao is beginning to think they’re moving out of their own accord and Wonwoo’s not in complete control right now.

The world is beginning to tilt on its axis for both of them.

Experimentally, Minghao bucks his hips up to meet Wonwoo’s movement, cock pressing between Wonwoo’s ass cheeks through his shorts. Wonwoo throws his head back and looks about ready to lose himself completely in the gratification.

“But—”

“But?”

“Don’t think—” his breath stutters; it might have something to do with the fact that Minghao’s palming him. “Don’t think I have… you know.”

“So you can say _fuck_ but not _condoms_?” Minghao chuckles into his neck before he lifts his mouth to Wonwoo’s ear. “Don’t worry,” he reassures Wonwoo, stroking his cheek with a tender hand. “I have other ways to get you off.”

“Us,” Wonwoo says in response.

“What was that?”

“Get _us_ off,” he presses a kiss to the corner of Minghao’s mouth. “I want you to feel good, too.”

“Fuck,” Minghao swears and Wonwoo’s hips jerk.

He kisses him again, harder than before, more fervent, and in between their kisses Wonwoo tells him how hot he is when he swears and Minghao throws all caution into the wind. He lifts Wonwoo’s body just enough to tug his shorts off completely, throws it somewhere to the side—it doesn’t matter where it lands. Wonwoo’s quick to catch his drift because the moment he’s back on Minghao’s lap he’s kissing him while his fingers work at the button of his pants, undoing it before he drags the zipper down.

Wonwoo pulls Minghao’s cock out of his underwear and it springs out freely, leaking at the tip and a little red, the visuals matching Wonwoo’s own hardness. He gulps thickly with effort, as though there’s a lump stuck to his throat from the sight presented to him. Minghao leans forward slightly, one hand on the small of Wonwoo’s back to steady him and ensures he doesn’t fall backwards. Then, he spits right from his mouth, the wetness landing on the head of Wonwoo’s dick.

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to curse, but in contrast to Minghao’s singular profanity, his is an entire litany of them. He must’ve been a sailor in his past life, Minghao thinks, a little silly thought to have considering the situation they’re in right now. The words that come out of his sinful mouth become more and more creative the longer Minghao strokes them together, him and Wonwoo in the middle with his grip tight around the two of them, their erections now full-blown. To stop him from sinning more, Minghao kisses him thoroughly, occupying Wonwoo’s mouth with a much better task while he jacks the two of them off.

The moment comes where Wonwoo’s beautiful body turns into one tight, beautiful arch. He presses his forehead onto Minghao’s, fingers digging into his back and his breathing completely erratic. Wonwoo comes like that, holding Minghao as tightly as Minghao is holding him, spurts of white shooting up Minghao’s wrist and all over his shirt. Minghao follows behind him, never too far away from where Wonwoo is, won’t ever be far away again if Wonwoo lets him.

“First you made me fall,” Wonwoo whispers into the small space between their bodies once he’s come off his high. “Then you made me fly.”

Minghao nuzzles into his cheek.

“I like you a lot, Minghao.”

He kisses Wonwoo again.

* * *

“Why are you wearing hyung’s clothes?” Mingyu asks, staring at him weirdly. “And why’s your hair wet?”

“It was raining when he came,” answers Wonwoo quickly. A little _too_ quickly. “So he took a shower and I gave him my clothes.”

Mingyu squints his eyes at them, not buying into the lie Wonwoo is trying to sell him. Minghao looks at Wonwoo who’s biting his lips and he realises that he doesn’t want to hide it anyway. Mingyu is bound to know one way or another. The sooner the better, so he’d stop introducing Minghao to girls at those parties he always drags him to.

“He got come on my shirt.”

“ _What_.” His eyes bulge out of their sockets. Mingyu is spluttering, his mouth opening and closing rapidly but no words seem to come out of them. “ _What._ ”

“And my jeans, too.” Wonwoo is hiding his face behind his hands like he wasn’t the one asking to be fucked earlier. “But don’t worry, we threw the evidence in the washing machine already.” He winks at Mingyu, then wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, revelling in the fact that Mingyu looks positively aghast.

“I can’t believe this,” he scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest. The distraught tone he uses makes both Minghao and Wonwoo raise their heads in alarm. “My brother and my best friend!”

The tension breaks.

“Not your brother,” Wonwoo chirps, masking his expression back into neutrality.

Minghao joins him. “And I’m definitely _not_ your best friend.” He definitely is. In the future, Mingyu’s going to be the best man at their wedding.

“One orgasm into this relationship and you’re already ganging up against me!” Mingyu is pouting petulantly, but Minghao can only smile at his childish act because Wonwoo reaches for his hand behind Mingyu’s chair.


	3. kintsukoroi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kintsukoroi (n.): “to repair with gold”; the art of repairing pottery with gold lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.
> 
> written for [@jinniespring](https://twitter.com/jinniespring) / [pantoneoftheskies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantoneoftheskies) :)
> 
> Soonyoung/Wonwoo/Mingyu  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 3,038  
> Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Polyamory, Mate Connection, Established Relationship.

Ten minutes ago, the sky had just cleared out of the dark clouds previously shedding cold tears onto the Earth. Now here Mingyu stands, linking arms with the two people he wants to hold on to and never let go as long as time permits, strolling around the neighbourhood. Petrichor emanates from the grass, the same scent coming off the branches of the trees standing tall and strong on either side of the large walkway that cuts right through the middle of the park they’re currently walking through.

Soonyoung is leading them by a couple of footsteps, because he’s Soonyoung and that’s what he does most of the time, dragging the other two along with him wherever he goes—always with an enthusiasm that’s barely curbed no matter how hard Wonwoo tries.

If he really does mind Soonyoung steering the wheel, though, it never shows through his actions. Wonwoo’s protests are often muttered under low, fond breaths that aren’t meant for anyone to hear but Mingyu. They’d share a coy smile then, an understanding of how they’re entirely taken by the eldest of the three passing between the two of them.

The wind caressing his face feels icy but Wonwoo is surprisingly warm against his side. Soonyoung’s hand around his wrist emits the same kind of welcomed heat. They have no destination in mind, no place they want to be; these walks have always been about spending time together, idly taking in details of their surroundings, and familiarising Mingyu with this newfound connection.

Mingyu appreciates it, appreciates _them_ more than he has been able to vocalise, though he’s getting better at it every day, or so Soonyoung tells him with a smile that makes Mingyu think he couldn’t possibly be lying.

 _Thud_.

His head snaps forward from the sudden force and it takes Mingyu a moment to realise that it was a ball being kicked at his head that had caused him to lurch. An accident, no doubt. There would have been no problem whatsoever if the young man who appears to be the perpetrator had looked the slightest bit apologetic, but turns out things aren’t going the way Mingyu wishes them to be.

The stranger says, “Throw it back would you, mutt?” so lightly, _too_ lightly.

He feels like he’s been slapped, the word hurts more than the impact from the ball on the base of his skull.

Soonyoung’s fingers slip out of his.

“Hyung,” Mingyu whines lowly. He knows where this is going. “Leave it.”

A shake of the head, soft golden bangs swaying in the air. Soonyoung bends down to retrieve the ball that had outrageously attacked Mingyu’s head and attempts to ease the younger’s worry, to no avail.

“I’ll just be over there to talk to him for a bit,” he tells his mates, then he’s walking away from them.

Wonwoo presses himself closer to Mingyu, hand moving up to caress the back of his head as if he’s willing away the dull pain. It’s working wonders, except for the fact that Mingyu’s entire being can’t help but tense as he keeps his eyes trained on Soonyoung. Soonyoung, who is jogging lightly toward the stranger and his other friend who was passing the ball with him.

“Why does he do that a lot?” Mingyu grumbles, slightly exasperated with Soonyoung’s insistence on defending his honour. “I’m an Alpha, too.”

“He does that to me as well.” Wonwoo shifts his weight from one foot to another, eyes fixed on Soonyoung’s figure. “It just comes with age.”

Wonwoo is a mere month younger than Soonyoung, which probably means he shouldn’t be bringing age into any conversation, especially considering how touchy Soonyoung can be about the topic.

“Hyung will bite you if he hears you say that,” Mingyu tells him, tone matter-of-fact.

The dark-haired man hides his laugh behind Mingyu’s shoulder, but he can feel the amused vibrations passing from Wonwoo’s mouth to his body, urging all of his cells awake.

“I’m serious, it’s not an insult. Older Alphas’ protective instincts are more enhanced because they feel a sense of responsibility to their families. And with us, we’re his family now, and you’re a new addition, so it’s natural for him to—”

“He’s going to get himself into trouble,” Mingyu cuts in, his worries making his head ache.

The men and Soonyoung have started talking rather animatedly. Even at a distance, Mingyu can see the friend scoffing as Soonyoung politely told them _mutt_ is not an appropriate word to call anyone, ever. It’s a wrong chord to strike, really, because both Soonyoung and Wonwoo are well aware of this:

Mingyu’s last relationship before them consisted of him being called that exact word on top of other derogatory terms on a daily basis, and always without his consent. As a result of that knowledge, now Soonyoung will fight tooth and nail before he lets anyone else get away with doing such things ever again.

Perhaps if there’s anything to be grateful for from his previous experience, it’s that Mingyu’s never let them stake their claim on him, never bared his neck and fully submitted to them. That is something he saved up until Soonyoung and Wonwoo stumble into his life, a bonded pair who seemingly had no space for anyone else to come between them. But then they _made_ space for Mingyu, carved it out and presented it to him for him to take if he so wishes to.

Suffice to say, Mingyu did. It’s become his home ever since.

Mingyu wasn’t in pieces when they found him, not really, but at the same time being with them makes him feel _whole_. They’re a culmination of everything good the world has to offer and Mingyu learns firsthand what love is through the things they show him.

Wonwoo takes over Soonyoung’s empty space and slips his hand into Mingyu’s, the slide of their palms together sending a tiny jolt of electricity up his forearm.

“Then we better help him.”

Mingyu turns to look at him, slightly stunned by the suggestion that seemingly came out of nowhere. “Here?”

His mate gives him a curt nod. “Practice makes perfect.”

“I’m not sure…”

“You need to learn how to control it, right?” Wonwoo coaxes, squeezing Mingyu’s hand in his.

Ah, he’s playing so dirty, pulling all the cards he has hidden up his sleeves. The big guns. With those gentle eyes of his gazing into Mingyu’s own, he’s offering wordless reassurance that makes the younger feel braver than he probably should be. That’s the kind of effect these two men have on him—he thinks nothing is impossible as long as he’s got them next to him.

So far he hasn’t been wrong on that account, though.

“Think of this as a case study,” adds Wonwoo, for the sake of completion. “Hands-on experience is the best teacher.”

Mingyu stares back at him but he can hear the sounds of his entire resistance crumbling. “Last time I opened the bond, I almost passed out,” he reminds Wonwoo.

“ _Almost_ being the keyword.”

He juts out his bottom lip. “Not funny.”

Wonwoo leans up to kiss the pout away and Mingyu chases his lips upon separation like the whipped fool he is.

“That time was different,” Wonwoo explains gently. “We were sharing pleasure, not strength.”

He feels his face heating up at Wonwoo’s words, vivid recollection of that fervent night coming back to him. Soonyoung pounding into Wonwoo like there’s no tomorrow, sending Mingyu’s cock deeper into his throat with every thrust. Mingyu remembers pulling away to give Wonwoo room to breathe only to have him grabbing at his hips stubbornly and making him stay put right where he is.

There was no room for escape, simply because Wonwoo allowed him none.

Just like now.

“Besides, you were on the receiving end of most of it then because we wanted to give you everything. I would actually pass out if I was the one going through three orgasms at once, but you only came close to losing consciousness.”

It sounds suspiciously like praise and Mingyu knows Wonwoo isn’t above using compliments to lure him into compliance. He blinks at Wonwoo once, twice. Wonwoo stares back at him, determination only growing stronger.

“What I’m saying is, you have a lot more strength than you think.” He’s driving his point home, thumb rubbing the skin on Mingyu’s inner wrist, the contact soothing. “And right now we need to give Soonyoung some of it, champ. He’s too worn out from his afternoon nap to take them both.”

Mingyu huffs. He knows when he’s lost a battle and this is one of those instances.

“How much should I give him?”

“Just enough for him to elude their punches,” instructs Wonwoo. He cocks his head to Soonyoung’s direction. “Tall one is about to throw his first any time now. You know how sharp Soonyoung’s tongue can get when he wants it to be.”

“What if I accidentally give him too much?”

“Don’t worry. I got you.” He lifts their joined hands in the air for Mingyu to see. “We’re a team, yes? Think of it as playing tag.”

He closes his eyes and focuses his attention on the task at hand. Soonyoung’s bite mark on the junction of his neck and shoulder tingles when Mingyu finally pushes the gates open. There’s a flash of memory, one of sharp teeth sinking into flesh and breaking skin, followed by a mixture of relief and euphoria that is matched only by Wonwoo mimicking the same action.

Anger.

That’s the first thing he senses from Soonyoung’s side of the connection. His anger is the fire over a furnace, hot and burning, though at this point Mingyu knows how it often goes as quickly as it comes. It’s a stark contrast to Wonwoo’s own wrath, one that tends to simmer until an explosion is due, the blast radius wide enough to flatten an entire city. Mingyu’s glad that in any fight he’s to find himself in from now on, he will always be standing next to them and not on the opposite side. The _losing_ side.

He frowns when he catches another prominent feeling coming from Soonyoung. There is disappointment thrown in there with his fury, like Soonyoung is placing the blame for these strangers being an asshole toward Mingyu on himself.

“Good,” Wonwoo murmurs from his side. His voice grounds Mingyu to the present, an anchor that tethers him to his control.

After getting a good hold on the reins, Mingyu opens his eyes slowly. Right at that second, a closed fist flies at Soonyoung’s face. He steps to the side and dodges it easily, grinning like he’s having the time of his life. Mingyu takes a deep breath, then exhales through his mouth.

“That’s good, you’re doing good. So good, baby.”

The tip of his ears heat up even though he understands that Wonwoo isn’t doing this on purpose, doesn’t mean to make him as flustered as he feels himself getting. Still. Words like that? Sincerely spoken and given without any ulterior motives? They’re Mingyu’s Achilles heel. They can easily bring him to his knees under the right circumstances. And whenever Wonwoo is concerned, whenever Soonyoung is concerned, the circumstances are always _right_.

Soonyoung’s anger dissipate little by little, which is odd considering the men keep trying to maim him, but Mingyu quickly connects the dots. Just as he’s giving Soonyoung strength, Wonwoo is taking his anger away from him in an attempt to keep Soonyoung’s head clear enough for him to maintain focus.

One moment, the wet ground beneath his feet make the blond loses his balance and Mingyu lets out an audible gasp, but Soonyoung finds his footing again without trouble. He continues manoeuvring himself with a speed that is characteristic to him, one of his marked traits as an Alpha. Pride of his clan, pride of the little pack the three of them is at the start of building.

Soonyoung stands still as one of them charges at him and Mingyu doesn’t understand why he’s doing it until he shifts his stance at the last second, causing the guy who kicked the ball to strike his friend across the face instead.

The punch seems quite harsh, seeing as the friend goes down to the ground face first and stops moving entirely. Soonyoung brings his palm up to the remaining man’s face and Mingyu hears a soft crunch. Which… shouldn’t exist. Soft _and_ crunching noise together, he means. He doesn’t want to know which facial features Soonyoung just rearranged on the man’s face.

He relaxes against Wonwoo and closes the bond, but not before he feels Soonyoung’s love being pushed at his direction through the connection, the pleasant feeling bringing a smile to his face. Soonyoung matches his elation, eyes turning into twin crescents as he gets closer to them. With his arms thrown around Mingyu’s neck, he presses their fronts together and kisses him lazily, taking all the time he wants without a care in the world who might stand witness to their public display of affection.

In the middle of being kissed, Mingyu has half a mind of pulling Wonwoo closer but really it’s to his own demise as Wonwoo starts nibbling at his outer lobe. A moan escapes the back of his throat only to be swallowed directly by Soonyoung, straight into his mouth.

Soonyoung pulls away with a smack. “Thank you for the loan, Gyu-yah.”

Mingyu is in a daze. There’s a string of saliva connecting their bottom lips and Wonwoo still hasn’t stopped his ministrations at his ear.

“Huh?”

“The energy boost,” he clarifies, batting his lashes as a present for Mingyu. How sweet. Always sweet. “Thank you.”

“Oh.” Mingyu clears his throat. Wonwoo finally releases him, chuckling lightly. “Yeah. You’re welcome, hyung.”

Seemingly satisfied with the outcome of their conversation, Soonyoung links his arms with Mingyu’s once again. He’s about to start walking again when Mingyu catches a glimpse of two indisposed men lying on the ground and realises what a huge distraction tactic that whole thing was just now.

“Wait a minute—”

Soonyoung turns to him almost immediately, attention fully focused on Mingyu, eyes searching his features for any hint of a wish he’d most likely strive to fulfil without a second thought. The oldest of the three takes his lower lip in between his teeth, flesh white where they dig into the plumpness. Soonyoung’s tongue comes out to wet them thoroughly and Mingyu gulps, entirely fixated by the movement.

Wait—

“Stop doing that!” he exclaims, shaking his head to remove himself out of that headspace.

Next to him, Wonwoo laughs. Why is that sound so damn beautiful? It’s playing interference right now.

“It’s really not his fault you can’t resist him.”

He groans at Wonwoo’s response to the current situation. “Please, don’t enable him.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t resist me,” Soonyoung repeats. He sticks his tongue out and Mingyu wants to chase it back into his mouth so badly.

“You’ve got to stop picking fights with anyone who looks at me the wrong way.”

Soonyoung looks at him properly before he nods his agreement. “Alright.”

“Alright?” asks Mingyu in slight disbelief. The Soonyoung he’s grown to know and love with would have at least three smart comebacks, so this agreement that comes with such ease is suspicious, to say the least.

“Yeah, alright,” he reiterates, but that playful grin is back on his face and that has never meant any good since, like, ever. “As long as you promise to do the same.”

He tilts his head to the right. Soonyoung’s grin widens imperceptibly. Oh, no.

“What do you mean?”

“Stop growling at every girl who touches my arm,” Soonyoung breaks it down to him, drawing out his syllables so Mingyu can understand him perfectly. “You already know I don’t even swing that way.”

Mingyu reels back, affronted. He does not _growl_ at anyone like a wild animal just because they get a little touchy with Soonyoung even though he’s clearly taken—okay, so maybe he does. It’s not like he bares his teeth at the unwelcomed guests and starts scenting Soonyoung in the middle of the room just to establish his territory.

“That’s what you did to me once, but to be fair that beta was all over me,” Wonwoo supplies rather unhelpfully, making Mingyu realise he’s just vocalised his thought out loud.

Scarlet bleeds into his features, his embarrassment causing him to shake all over.

“We think it’s cute,” offers Soonyoung, fingers carding through Mingyu’s brown locks. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You think me making a fool out of myself by being unnecessarily possessive is cute?”

“I think you’re cute, period,” Soonyoung corrects him. “Besides, you’re always nice about it. You don’t make a fuss, you don’t tell us not to hang out with our friends without you. You just… touch our mating bites a lot at the end of the day.”

That’s even _worse_.

“It comes with the biology, baby, don’t worry about it, yeah?” At Mingyu’s uncertain expression, Soonyoung points at Wonwoo. “ _He_ would make us perfumes out of his pheromones if he can figure out how. He’s worse.”

Wonwoo nods sagely.

“I am worse,” he agrees. “What can I do?”

“Let’s go home, hm? I think Wonwoo’s getting cold.” Soonyoung reaches out for his hand and Wonwoo offers it to him, the blond immediately rubbing the back of his hand to transfer some body heat across.

He looks at them and there’s that pleasant sensation again, but this time it doesn’t come from Soonyoung. It’s just something that exists within him. The feeling remains idle inside until one of them smiles at him or calls his name, then it bubbles up to the surface and reminds Mingyu that _hey, you’re in love with these two, they’re yours forever_. _Remember that_.

Under Soonyoung’s scarf, there’s a mark on the shape of Mingyu’s teeth. Behind the lapels of Wonwoo’s jacket, the same imprint.

“Race you home,” Mingyu decides with a light heart, “loser changes sheets after we’re done tonight,” then he’s sprinting across the park, Soonyoung’s empty protests and Wonwoo’s delighted laughter echoing behind him.


	4. untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introspection of one love from four different perspectives.
> 
> Junhui/Soonyoung/Wonwoo/Jihoon  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 1,518  
> Tags: Polyamory, Established Relationship, Mentions of Drinking.

Junhui falls in love on a Saturday. It’s a lazy morning after a night spent drinking and dancing and singing at the new karaoke bar Mingyu dragged them to. Maybe Junhui should thank him with a letter on top of the couple bottle of beers he’s treated the younger to, because he got to see Soonyoung with his cheeks flushed a soft hue of pink, lips the same shade, head thrown back as he lost himself in the waves of movement coursing through his body.

He got to see Jihoon, his eyes sharp even in the dimmed lighting of the club, coy smile playing on thin lips as he practically undressed Soonyoung with just a look. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down _Junhui’s_ spine, electricity crackling all the way down to the back of his knees, making it almost impossible to stand up straight. Or perhaps it was Wonwoo’s mouth having that effect as it latched onto the sensitive skin under his ear, marking Junhui at a place impossible to miss. _Mine_ , Wonwoo had growled, low but unmistakable, and Junhui scrambled toward the bathroom with him in tow.

They made it back to Jihoon’s place in one piece. He’s not even sure how, to be honest. The only thing he can remember from their journey back is Jihoon’s laughter at their drunken antics as he was once again the designated responsible person. The youngest of the four steers clear of alcohol as it messes with his medications, which makes Junhui feel bad at times—since Jihoon can’t share this state of inebriation with them. But as soon as this feeling resurfaces, _someone_ will do _something_ and the effect it has on him hits him ten times harder than a shot of tequila. Then, Junhui is glad knowing that just like him, Jihoon doesn’t need to drink to be intoxicated.

The nights are undoubtedly nice. Nicer than Junhui would’ve thought he would ever get in this life. The mornings, though… the mornings are the reasons he prays before he goes to bed. He prays so he can see them again when the sun rises tomorrow. So he can tuck Soonyoung’s hair behind his ear, kisses the morning grumpiness off of Jihoon’s lips, takes Wonwoo’s hand in his when he reaches out to him.

It’s Saturday morning, and Wen Junhui is in love.

* * *

Soonyoung falls in love at the park. As absurd as it sounds, that’s exactly what happens. This ‘date’ isn’t really an outdoor date as much as it is an outing where Junhui bickers with Jihoon for no other reason than to get the younger to engage in the conversation. Jihoon rolls his eyes, rolls his shoulders, but whenever the reaches out to swat Junhui’s arms or push his face away, the power in his hand is non-existent. Touches are either tender or they aren’t delivered. Their exchange is almost as tender as the smile gracing Wonwoo’s face as he, too, watches them alongside Soonyoung.

He rests his head on Wonwoo’s bony shoulder and melts. It has nothing to do with the harsh Sun shining above their heads, but more with the fire Wonwoo ignited inside him. Junhui says something to Jihoon in Mandarin, too quick for Soonyoung to catch its meaning, but he gets the gist. The reddening of Jihoon’s cheeks has nothing to do with the weather, either.

“Hot?” asks Wonwoo, airing out his sleeveless tee in emphasis. Despite his words, he puts his arms around Soonyoung and reels him in as though sticking to each other like this will improve and not worsen the condition.

“Yeah, you are,” Soonyoung answers cheekily and Wonwoo laughs.

“What?” comes Jihoon’s voice from across them. In his outstretched hand, there’s iced chocolate meant for Soonyoung to take. “We don’t get to hear the joke?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Soonyoung makes sure he properly retrieves the drink from Jihoon before he delivers the blow, “You would have heard it if you weren’t too busy flirting with your boyfriend.”

“Guess I should stop flirting with you now, then,” he fires back.

This time, it’s the mellifluous sound of Junhui’s laughter that fills the air around them. All of them immediately look over at him, drawn to the sound like moths to a bright, bright flame. Soonyoung is in love, and he knows he isn’t alone in it.

* * *

Wonwoo falls in love into the arms of three incredible people. Some of his friends ask him—in a kind way, of course—about how it works. The relationship. Wonwoo tells them it’s the same as any other romantic arrangement when there’s only two individual involved per convention, but with a whole lot more communication. Most of them don’t push for further elaboration, but Chan has always been a more curious soul than most.

“But _how_?” he pushes, eyes wide with the inquiry. “Like, okay, when you’re sad and you need someone to cheer you up, how do you know which one of them to go to?”

He considers the question and hums.

“It depends on what I need at the moment,” he says eventually. “If I go to Junhui, he sits me down and makes me talk about what’s bothering me. He’d give me advice after he asks if I’m done talking then makes me a meal. We talk, we eat, we cuddle.”

Chan crinkles his nose at the image of his hyungs cuddling and Wonwoo guffaws.

“Soonyoung talks about himself instead. He steers me away from the problem and tells me what happens in his day. After that, he’ll ask me about my latest fixation. The game I brought the week before or the book I’m reading—anything. It’s like he knows he can’t take the bad stuff away from me but for a minute, at least, he can take me away from the bad stuff. He’s a shield, that one.”

“I’m starting to regret having asked the question because of the whipped look on your face, but we’re already here anyway,” Chan sighs. “And Jihoon-hyung?”

“We don’t talk. Jihoon understands that when I come to him it’s because I need the quiet to cancel out the loud battle going inside my head. So he just man-handles me into a hug and holds me until I fall asleep.” Chan looks downright _horrified_ at Wonwoo’s words. “I know he doesn’t seem like the type, but it’s true.”

Chan shivers and Wonwoo ruffles his hair, knowing he’ll understand when he finds the one or ones for him. After all, it takes Wonwoo falling in love to understand.

* * *

Jihoon falls in love willingly— _eventually_. Some people say love is a force so magnificent that you can’t fight against it, but Jihoon _did_ fight. He fought tooth and nail. As hard and relentless as he could. In the end, the fact remains: a warrior should know when he can’t win the battle, let alone the war. So Jihoon puts down his sword and discards his armour, walked into the enemies’ tent with his head held high and souvenirs from his time fighting worn proudly on display. His enemies welcome him with a smile. The underlying _hello, you’ve finally made it here_ is prominent in the taste of their kisses. They gather around him and just like that— _enemies_ is no longer a term suitable to describe them.

He wasn’t surprised to find out that he was the last out of the bunch to yield into what his heart desires, but none of them seemed to mind. _Some late bloomers make the pretties flowers_ , Wonwoo said once, cupping Jihoon’s face in his hand like Jihoon is the most delicate thing he’d ever come across. His breath caught somewhere in the space between his ribs, thoughts lost in the sincerity of the sentence, the reassurance that everything is fine the way it is.

The moment passed when Junhui laughed at Wonwoo’s words, though he did it so softly that it failed at hiding his overwhelming fondness. Soonyoung didn’t bother hiding his feelings at all; there were stars in his eyes when he shoved Wonwoo aside to frame Jihoon’s jaw in his place. Jihoon pretended to bite his fingers off for trying to pull the same stunt, but Soonyoung merely dissolved into a fit of giggles and _awww our Jihoonie’s shy right now’s_. Not that Jihoon would have it any other way.

It takes a lot to unlearn his habit of forcing people away. Junhui tiptoed around him a lot in the beginning, guilt often passing across his features when he wanted to touch him but feared that his gesture might not be welcome. To take charge of the situation, Jihoon reminds himself every now and then to close the distance between them, help Junhui shoulder the burden as such. He learns, he unlearns, he loves. In time his want toward these man grows into something like a necessity. And fighting something as fundamental to his life as breathing in oxygen is futile, is it not? Jihoon is in love, and there are no other people he’d rather be with in this than them.


	5. untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two hunters take in a prey, yet it all ends better than anyone would think.
> 
> Soonyoung/Wonwoo/Mingyu  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 1,188  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Hunter!Soonyoung, Hunter!Wonwoo, Werewolf!Mingyu, Unconventional Pack Dynamics

The first thing Wonwoo notices when he walks through the door of the cabin is the fresh scent of blood. Animal. Behind him, Soonyoung tugs at the back of his shirt, wordlessly telling him to stop moving. He slips through the space between Wonwoo and the door to walk in front of him—this is how he always insisted on doing things. Soonyoung assesses the threat and Wonwoo gets to wait for his signal.

Tonight, he receives it. Soonyoung beckons him closer, his serrated knife now held tightly next to his hip. With careful steps, Wonwoo goes to him. Once he’s standing right next to Soonyoung, he follows Soonyoung’s line of sight.

There’s a deer. The carcass is laid carefully across their kitchen table, the blood from its punctured neck dripping to the wooden floor.

Movement, then, to Wonwoo’s left. Soonyoung’s quicker again, pushing Wonwoo behind him before he has the chance to protest.

“Whoa!” Mingyu holds both of his hands in the air in surrender. “Why do you have your knife out?”

“Is anyone else in here?” demands Soonyoung, knife lowered but grip no less tight. “Mingyu, use your nose. Is anyone else in here?”

The werewolf follows the instruction and sniffs the air around them, both Wonwoo and Soonyoung watching him with anticipation. After a heartbeat, Mingyu shakes his head. “No.”

“Then the deer’s yours,” says Wonwoo, noting his observation.

“Uh… yes?”

“Okay.” Soonyoung tucks his deadly weapon back into its sheath. “I’ll give you a minute to explain why there’s a dead deer on the counter where I make bread. ”

Mingyu looks as surprised as Wonwoo feels, though he’s sure the reasons behind their surprise are quite different. Mingyu’s shock is softer, like he hadn’t thought he’d be asked to explain, while Wonwoo’s coarse, rough around the edges—Soonyoung’s not the kind of person who asks for an explanation. Stab first, words later. Or, in Mingyu’s case, a punishment would fit better. But he gives out none of those, his tone isn’t hostile and the palpable tension in the air begins to dissipate.

“I—” Mingyu starts, “I… that’s my initiation offering.”

“Your initiation offering,” Soonyoung repeats.

“It was… um.” His eyes dart to Wonwoo’s and they’re screaming _help_ but Wonwoo hasn’t quite understood yet. “It was in the book Wonwoo-hyung gave me.”

Then it hits him.

“Your _pack_ initiation offering,” Wonwoo clarifies, shifting his stance from one leg to another just to feel the wood beneath his shoes. “Ones you bring to the head of the clan to show that you can be useful during a hunt and therefore a valuable addition to the pack.”

A slow nod comes from Mingyu. He looks a little guilty and maybe scared too, because according to the literature this is where Soonyoung gets to decide whether he’s accepted into the pack or not. It’s a ridiculous notion to begin with, considering how neither Wonwoo nor Soonyoung is a wolf of any sort, so they can’t be an actual pack, and yet… there’s a deer on Soonyoung’s counter. Where he makes bread; makes lots of them for the past couple of months because they have three mouths to feed now instead of two.

“Get rid of it,” Soonyoung says coldly, and Mingyu once again looks the way Wonwoo feels. Like he’s been slapped. “And if you ever leave the cabin without permission again, you better not come back.”

He leaves right after, not allowing Mingyu a rebuttal. Wonwoo stares after him as he disappears up the stairs and when he looks back at Mingyu, his heart aches.

“Gyu, I’m sure—”

“No,” Mingyu cuts. “Don’t—you don’t need to. Thank you. I’ll just clean up my mess.”

It’s a lost cause trying to soothe that pain because Wonwoo isn’t the one who stuck the thorn in Mingyu’s chest. He’s not the one who can pull it out, so he goes to find the person who can.

Soonyoung is taking his combat boots off by the edge of their bed when Wonwoo finds him.

“What the fuck, Soonyoung?”

“What?”

“You didn’t need to be that harsh with him,” Wonwoo points out. “What’s wrong with you?”

He doesn’t understand. These days, Soonyoung seems to have warmed up to Mingyu a lot and suddenly they’re back on square one? Wonwoo eyes Soonyoung’s bag and the proof of his fondness for the youngest of them is peeking from the inside: a couple of tubes of fresh paint for Mingyu to use.

“What’s wrong with _me_?” he throws the question back to Wonwoo. Soonyoung approaches him at a blinding speed and even though Wonwoo is taller by a good couple of inches, the older man towers over him easily. “What do you think would happen if someone had caught him hunting in these grounds?”

Wonwoo gulps because he knows the answer to that question is not pretty.

“I go out there every other day and drag preys back miles and miles, only for him to walk out the door to do it himself the first chance he’s got?” There should be venom in his words, but all Wonwoo catches is his concern. “Ungrateful pup. They’d skin him alive if they get their hands on him, Wonwoo. You thought about that, even for one second?”

Straightening his back, Wonwoo reaches for Soonyoung’s face. “You know he cares about you. About what you think.”

“And whose fault is that?” he laughs bitterly, moving away from Wonwoo’s reach. “You wanted to play house and now he thinks we can be a pack.”

“Why can’t we?”

“Are you insane?”

“No,” Wonwoo denies. “Why can’t we, really?”

“Because we’re _hunters_.”

“Then why have we been keeping him to live and not to die?” he coaxes gently. “As much as you want to deny it, that’s a decision we both made. Consciously, every day.” Soonyoung avoids his eyes. “You care about him too, maybe as much as he cares about you.”

There’s a heavy sigh that floats through the air. Wonwoo captures the sound and tucks it into his memory, files it under _Soonyoung’s quiet admissions of defeat_. He’ll treasure this moment for the years to come, basking in the realisation that even in loving Mingyu, Soonyoung won’t let him travel the path alone.

Soonyoung walks past Wonwoo and toward the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks, but Wonwoo has a feeling he already knows the answer.

“I can’t let him get rid of the deer alone,” Soonyoung throws over his shoulder. “He’s helpless.”

Mingyu isn’t. He _was_ helpless when they first stumbled upon him, but now they’ve taught him not to be. Still, Wonwoo knows that while using a wet cloth to scrub the stains out of the table and floor, Soonyoung will murmur his apology. Soft, but not too soft that Mingyu’s enhanced hearing would have no chance to capture it.

And Mingyu might not forgive him tonight. Mingyu might not forgive him first thing tomorrow, either. But in a couple of days, Soonyoung would slide him yet another book about pack dynamics and ruffle Mingyu’s hair as he passes by—then they’d already become a pack without knowing it.


	6. love on canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >   
> Mingyu, Kim (b. 1997)
>> 
>> July 17 1996: A Star Fell From the Sky, 2019
>> 
>> love on canvas
>> 
>> framed dimensions (inches) 42.5 x 24
> 
> Wonwoo/Mingyu  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 1,142  
> Tags: Photographers!MW, Proposal Fic, Established Relationship 

_“Where are you? Are you close?”_ Mingyu’s raspy voice comes through the receiver.

The dark-haired man quickens his pace because when Mingyu calls him like this, it means he’s late. And Wonwoo hates being late to something important for Mingyu. He could have sworn up and down that he had calculated the time it would take him to get here and gave himself a 20-minutes window to be early, but finding a parking spot was exceptionally hard tonight.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo answers him, making a final turn at the corner of the street. “I’m at the front now.”

“ _Okay._ ” Faint rustling from the other side. “ _Don’t come in yet._ ”

His steps slowed. “What?” asks Wonwoo, taken aback. “It’s _your_ show and I’m _your_ boyfriend. If you’re at full capacity then you should be kicking someone out instead of making me wait.” He knows he’s grumbling more than the situation calls for but seriously, Mingyu must be joking. “What’s wrong with you?”

The line disconnects and Wonwoo swears he’ll break up with Mingyu for this, or at least give him the cold shoulders for awhile. He stares hard at the door of the gallery and curses under his breath until he realises that he can’t hear chattering coming from the inside the building. That… is odd. Ever since the first even he snuck into without an invitation, he can hear the praises meant for Mingyu’s work from down the block. Now, there is only silence.

Wonwoo unlocks his phone and is about to call Mingyu again when the door opens to reveal his boyfriend in an attire that seems a little neater than his usual exhibition fashion.

“Hey,” he greets Wonwoo before wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing Wonwoo’s cheek.

“Hey?” Wonwoo returns dazedly. “Where’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re not here. It’s just us.”

Okay. The dial of his confusion scale is now turned to maximum. There was an _invitation_ , Wonwoo’s seen it, he’s looked over the creative concepts and gave Mingyu his opinion on which photograph should be the centrepiece this time. So, when this supposed exhibition turns into nothing Wonwoo has expected, dread creeps up his spine. Has he missed an important date?

“What?”

Mingyu returns his question with another question. “Can you close your eyes for me?”

“I—” Wonwoo frowns at him, bunches his fist at the back of Mingyu’s shirt. “Why?”

“Please?”

God. The puppy-eyed look is getting harder and harder to refuse with each passing day, not to mention the pretty pout Mingyu adds on top of that—like icing on the already saccharine-sweet cake. At this rate, he will soon figure out just how much power he has over Wonwoo. _Then_ Wonwoo will be really screwed in all meanings of the word.

“Fine,” he pretends to relent like he isn’t entirely at Mingyu’s beck and call. “If I stumble and fall I will have your ass, though.”

“Fair enough.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes and lets Mingyu lead them inside the gallery, hearing the soft clicking of the doors locking behind him and their footsteps echoing in the empty space. Nothing more. There really isn’t anyone here. After a few moments, Mingyu’s movement ceases and he releases Wonwoo’s hand. The older man tries not to mourn the loss.

“We’ve stopped,” Wonwoo voices his observation, a question hidden in his statement.

“Yeah, give me a second,” says Mingyu, followed by some more rustling. “Okay. Uhm, you can open them now. Your eyes.”

When Wonwoo does, he sees _himself_ staring back at him.

* * *

Mingyu, Kim (b. 1997)

 ** _July 17 1996: A Star Fell From the Sky,_** 2019

love on canvas

framed dimensions (inches) 42.5 x 24

* * *

“Wait—” Wonwoo gasps, looking around the gallery only to see pictures of him taken by Mingyu. “Our anniversary’s not for another— _you’re on one knee_ ,” he practically screeches through the last few words because of how surprised he feels. “Mingyu, why are you on one knee right now?”

Mingyu chuckles, nervous, and takes out a velvet box from his back pocket. Wonwoo’s breath hitches in his throat.

“I’m bad with words, you know this. You’ve written most of my piece descriptions for me after we’ve met. But I hope… these pictures are proof enough. Never in a million years did I think I’d want to spend the rest of my life with a man who argued with me about the meaning of _my_ work. Then you came along, and here I am, wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. So… what do you say, Jeon Wonwoo? Will you marry me?”

There’s a consequential item inside Wonwoo’s pocket, too. It’s not a ring, but he thinks the significance it has in their relationship is pretty close to one. After all, it was the camera he brought with the intention to spy on the first Kim Mingyu exhibition he ever went to. Wonwoo pulls the object out and turns it on while Mingyu stares at him, bewildered.

He brings the camera up to his face level but doesn’t let it cover his face, then says, “Yes,” at the same time he presses his index finger down on the shutter button.

It’s a miracle that the camera doesn’t get knocked out of his grip at the blinding speed with which Mingyu crashes into him right after, a happy sound muffled on the curve of Wonwoo’s lips. Gentle hands frame his face and Wonwoo can feel the velvet material of the ring box against his jaw, prompting him to press back into Mingyu with the same kind of fervour.

“Did you really have to stop and take a picture?” Mingyu questions as he rests their foreheads together, warm breath fanning over Wonwoo’s philtrum. “The suspense could’ve killed me.”

Wonwoo fiddles with the camera and shows Mingyu the resulting shots. “We’ll have ups and downs, but every time I need a reminder as to why we’re doing this, I’ll just look at how happy you were when I said yes.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words, right?” Wonwoo asks softly. “And you _are_ bad at them. Words, I mean. So I’ll let these pictures speak for you.”

“I’m the luckiest man alive.” Mingyu sounds the most genuine Wonwoo’s ever heard him. “Can you say it again?” The younger’s eyes sparkle; beautiful. “Just to be sure.”

He sets the laughter that bubbles inside him free and delivers his answer to Mingyu’s mouth, admiring how they fit so well in the back of his mind. Only when he brings his hand across Mingyu’s nape does he realise Mingyu has slipped the ring onto his finger amidst their kiss. He loves it, Wonwoo thinks. He knows it’s perfect without looking at it, because Mingyu puts a hundred and ten per cent into everything he does, including loving Wonwoo. He _knows_ it’s perfect—

Because Mingyu is.


	7. bad clue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on the Going Seventeen's Bad Clue #1 and the prompt: what if Mingyu does bad things in his sleep (“Is it me?”) and to cover up for his crimes Wonwoo decides to eliminate all the people who might know about it — plus helps to change the will to make sure Mingyu gets a part of the wealth.
> 
> Wonwoo/Mingyu  
> Rating: M  
> Words: 1,277  
> Tags: Doctor!Wonwoo, Implied Age Difference, Use of Sedatives, Use of Physical Restraints, References to Mental Health Issues, References to Violence

“We should stop doing this,” says Wonwoo.

It’s truly an ironic thing to say, considering he’s currently sitting at the edge of Mingyu’s bed, buttoning up his dress shirt. Considering he’s the one who undid them in the first place. Considering Wonwoo even took off Mingyu’s pyjamas for him.

Mingyu rolls over from the other side of the bed and throws his arms around Wonwoo’s middle. An attempt to get Wonwoo to stay—a request which is getting harder and harder to resist lately. The younger man buries his face in the curve of Wonwoo’s waist, inhaling deeply there.

Wonwoo hopes the subtle scent of his fabric softener isn’t enough to overcome the intoxicating smell of sex filling in the room. He wants that to be the thing that takes over all of Mingyu’s senses, the one to linger here long after he’s gone.

“You always say that, hyung,” Mingyu murmurs, stealing a glance upward.

His eyes are bright, as bright as the stars decorating the night sky outside this palace. Mingyu’s gaze is another additional allure Wonwoo has no use for, considering how far down the rabbit hole he has already gone.

“But you always come to me at night, too.”

Wonwoo’s hand moves from his shirt to pat Mingyu’s head softly, loose dark locks parted easily by his slender fingers.

“I come to make sure you take your medication,” Wonwoo retaliates; a weak retort.That is his intention, yes, but only part of it. Mingyu keens into Wonwoo’s hand in his hair, now soft and coddling instead of fisting roughly there as it had been just before. “And to tuck my little prince in bed,” he adds.

Mingyu sighs at the concealed meaning in Wonwoo’s tone.

“Do we have to?”

He wants to tell him _no we don’t_ , but the day when he can finally say that might not come for a long time. Wonwoo shifts his hand, now caressing Mingyu’s jaw, trailing an index finger along the sharp jut of it until he arrives at Mingyu’s chin. Then he tilts up the younger's face and leans down at the same time, so they can meet in the middle for a sweet kiss.

Wonwoo delivers his apology over the warm curve of Mingyu’s mouth before he rests their foreheads together. “Yes, Mingyu, we have to.”

The wordless apology proves not to be enough, as Mingyu is now moving away, turning his back on Wonwoo in his own special form of protest. The bed suddenly provides better separation between the two than an ocean ever could, despite the fact that they just became _one_ in it not too long ago.

If he had still been working at the hospital, and Mingyu was just another one of his patients he had to pay a routine night visit to, he wouldn’t have all the time in the world to make sure the younger man feels alright before he leaves. Yet Wonwoo’s position as the Park’s family doctor allows to do that; one of the blessings of the job despite the abundance of horrifying things he’s had come across in the process. So he lets Mingyu take his time, waits patiently for him to break the silence.

“It’d be nice…” Mingyu eventually breathes out, low but steady. “If I can fall asleep at night with my arms around you and wake up the same way in the morning.”

 _Yes, it would be nice_ , Wonwoo thinks.

It wouldn’t, however, be what’s likely to happen if they attempt to do it tonight.

“But it’ll never happen, won’t it? A sweet dream is still just a dream.”

Wonwoo is torn. He can tell Mingyu that _of course it will, little prince, one day soon_ , although a doctor isn’t supposed to promise their patients things they don’t know they can keep. Or he can acknowledge that in most cases, the repercussions of such great trauma never quite go away. And for Mingyu, who often exhibits violent tendencies when he sleepwalks—Wonwoo can’t risk him hurting himself. Or others. Not again.

But aside from being a doctor, Wonwoo is also a lover. He is Mingyu’s. This means his chosen response to the question is to crawl above the mattress and make his way toward his object of affection. Wonwoo doesn’t give a single damn that the nosy butler might catch him with his shirt all crumpled when he walks out of the young master’s bedroom. In the middle of the night, for the nth time this week alone.

“Hey,” he rests his chin on Mingyu’s upper arm, fingers splayed across the golden skin. “What’s my occupation?”

Mingyu closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, then opens them again. He angles his face slightly to look at Wonwoo when he answers, “You’re my doctor.”

Notice the diction here. The use of the possessive pronoun. To Mingyu, Wonwoo isn’t _a_ doctor. No. Wonwoo is _his_ doctor. Not even his family’s, _his_. Truth be told, Mingyu isn’t wrong about that.

“Exactly,” Wonwoo says, stroking the satin-smooth skin of Mingyu’s inner wrist. “Which means it’s my job to get you to be better. Do you trust me?”

Mingyu nods fervently as an answer, making a grandiose show of his confidence in Wonwoo’s ability. Wonwoo has studied him long enough to know that Mingyu is so eager to please every time, whether it be in and out of the sexual context. And always for Wonwoo’s sole benefits. He puts on a mask of nonchalance around his uncle, his grandfather, practically any other authoritative male figure in his life. But not around Wonwoo, _never_ around Wonwoo. With Wonwoo, Mingyu is simply himself.

At least he is himself in these moments; when Wonwoo can recognise the younger man looking back at him from behind brown orbs.

“Then I’ll get you better,” he promises softly, wholeheartedly. “We’ll get you better.”

He looks like he wants to kiss Wonwoo again, but in the end simply chooses to show his devotion in the form of compliance. Mingyu reaches to the glass of water next to the bed and his bottle of night pills while he’s at it.

Wonwoo watches on as he dumps two round tablets onto the palm of his hand and pops them into his mouth, washing them down with large gulps of water. Once he’s done, Mingyu melts back into the mattress, head on his pillow, eyes fixed on Wonwoo’s face. Still bright, for now.

Wonwoo leans in to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Good boy.”

Maybe those two words are the reason why Mingyu offers Wonwoo both his hands without the older man prompting it from him. He smiles at the gesture even though his heart is constricting three times its normal size inside. Wonwoo takes Mingyu’s hands and brings his lips to kiss the pristine, unbruised knuckles. To worship his crimson-free fingertips, the ones stained only with love and not blood for the night.

Then Wonwoo reaches for the leather restraints attached to the bedframe.

This is their holy ceremony; a ritual of penance for both of them. Mingyu lets Wonwoo shackle him in silence, only answering Wonwoo’s quiet inquiries about whether the bounds are too tight with shakes of his head. His dark fringe, not kept neatly to the side by any hair product at this time of day, falls over his hooded eyes. Wonwoo pushes them back once he’s finished placing the straps around Mingyu’s feet. He stands next to Mingyu’s side of the bed for a short moment.

“Sleep well, my little prince,” Wonwoo watches on as Mingyu’s eyes flutter close, a wave of tranquillity taking him over. “Sweet dreams.”


	8. no complaints for my body, so fluorescent under these lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “How badly do you want it?”
>> 
>> “How badly do I want you?” Wonwoo returns with a small scoff. “Bad. Always. Here,” he takes Soonyoung’s hand and places it conveniently on his crotch. “See?”
> 
> Soonyoung/Wonwoo  
> Rating: M  
> Words: 1,163  
> Tags: Established Relationship, Mild Sexual Content, Drunken Sex, Wonwoo comes home to the one he loves <3 

Soonyoung wakes up to the repeated buzzing of his phone above the bedside dresser. He reaches for it blindly, presses the small button on the side and _then_ actually gets blinded by the intensity of the light coming from the screen. After a moment, his eyes readjust and he sees Wonwoo’s name on top of the notification list. Missed calls. Ah, that means he must be back.

He pads softly to the front door and opens it, finding no one at his eye level because Wonwoo is slumped against the corridor wall. His cheeks are flushed slightly, lips wet and shiny.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Soonyoung responds, leaning against the doorway.

“Am I home?”

“I mean… look around.” This is rather amusing. Perhaps Wonwoo didn’t make the journey back alone. One of his juniors must’ve taken pity on him enough to at least makes sure he gets to the door. “I think it’s safe to say that you are.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes. “No way.”

“Why’s that? Because you’re drunk off your ass?”

“No way I got such a beautiful thing waiting for me back home,” he breathes out, as soft as the usual love proclamations that come from him. He lifts his head to look at Soonyoung, gazing deeply into his eyes. There is love there, alright—some things you can’t fake.

“Alright, champ.” Soonyoung laughs lightly and steps forward to retrieve Wonwoo from his spot on the floor. “Enough of that, you major flirt. Let’s get you in bed.”

Hauling Wonwoo’s body and carrying his weight grows increasingly difficult with each passing day. It’s all attributed to his penchant for working out of late, but Soonyoung reaps the benefits more often than not which means he shouldn’t be the one complaining, really.

Here is what the benefits look like:

Wonwoo crowds him against the door the moment Soonyoung manages to lock it behind him, finding enough energy to stand up straight and enough restraint to make a show out of coming closer despite his state of inebriation. He doesn’t kiss him, not yet, but they’re close enough for Soonyoung to smell the beer in his breath. The corners of his mouth have white sprinkles on them. He must have had chips, then. Soonyoung smiles.

“Hi again.”

“Hello,” he says, then he kisses Wonwoo, answering the question that’s not yet asked.

The kiss is sloppy, he means for it to be that way, because only with a sufficient amount of tongue can he collect all the salt coating Wonwoo’s lips. His lover sighs against him, delicate hands coming up to frame Soonyoung’s jaw.

“Can I fuck you?” asks Wonwoo, somehow already breathless.

And half-hard, too, if that’s what Soonyoung think it is, the pressure against the jut of his hips.

“That escalated quickly.”

Not that he’s surprised, this is how Wonwoo gets when he’s had a long week that ends with a night out. Wonwoo pulls back with a familiar kind of glow in his pupils, blown by his building arousal and yet focused entirely on Soonyoung’s expression. Before he gives him the green light, Soonyoung just has to check one thing.

“And if I say no?”

Wonwoo releases him in an instant. Takes two steps back. “Then no it is.”

Good. If he’s sober enough to understand and accept rejection, then Soonyoung doesn’t have to worry about his state of mind.

“Hmmm,” Soonyoung pretends to mull it over, bridging the distance between them one step at a time. “You gave up quite easily.”

“Babe,” the man in front of him whines, petulant. “Is this one of those games we play when everything you say means the opposite? I don’t think I have it in me right now.”

Holding back a smile, Soonyoung supposes he has a point in that. The game Wonwoo has just described is a fun one and Soonyoung wouldn’t mind playing it any other day. Just for tonight, maybe, he’ll relieve Wonwoo of the torture.

“How badly do you want it?”

“How badly do I want _you?_ ” Wonwoo returns with a small scoff. “ _Bad_. Always. Here,” he takes Soonyoung’s hand and places it conveniently on his crotch. “See?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer. He simply starts palming Wonwoo through the fabric even though he knows it’s one of Wonwoo’s nicest pants suits. It’ll be a hassle to get stains out of them later. _Later_ being the keyword here, as Wonwoo is not alone in his desires, in his wants, his passions. Soonyoung echoes them. He echoes them perfectly; a mirror image.

 _My counterpart_ , he thinks idly, as he guides Wonwoo to meet his mouth again.

“Don’t.” Wonwoo’s eyes move rapidly behind close lids. “Don’t start things you’re not going to finish.”

“Who says I won’t finish them?” He drags Wonwoo’s zipper down as Wonwoo holds his breath in anticipation. Silence envelops them aside from the sound of the teeth being undone. “The real question is if _you_ can finish _me_ off.”

He hears a growl, low and borderline guttural, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. It serves as a warning, because all of the sudden Wonwoo’s picking him up off his feet like Soonyoung is his bride, navigating them through their apartment and disposing him above their bed before Soonyoung can even get a word out.

The weight of the younger man’s body on top of his is, as always, welcomed. Soonyoung’s sleep shirt has hiked up to his midriff, which means now Wonwoo’s half-done zipper digs into his flesh. He moans into Wonwoo’s mouth; a form of surrender. _Take me. I am yours to begin with. Have always been, will always be_. Now, Soonyoung isn’t the romantic out of the two of them, but he knows he’s got his soulmate in his arms when Wonwoo reads the thoughts right out of his mind.

He tugs Soonyoung’s shorts down with a firm pinch right below the waistband, then his long fingers wrap around Soonyoung, starts easing him into it with slow strokes. The goal is to get Soonyoung on the same playing field as he is, and Wonwoo doesn’t let down. Soonyoung is right there with him in no time, panting into the pillow and bucking his hips into Wonwoo’s tightened fist.

“Please, please, pl-please.” Why not beg? Wonwoo’s heard them plenty, appears to like them too. “Wonwoo-yah, inside me, please. Now, now. Please.”

Wonwoo grunts and kisses the edge of Soonyoung’s jaw.

“I love you,” he murmurs there, then he’s pushing his way in, the coldness of the lubrication doing nothing to soothe the fire Wonwoo brings when he slides home. “I love you.”

Soonyoung pushes Wonwoo deeper into him by wrapping his legs around his slim waist.

“I love you.”

Fingers tangle above messy sheets and he realises that Wonwoo has the same dangerous addictive effect to his brain as alcohol has on Wonwoo’s.

He doesn’t let go. No, Soonyoung would never. Instead, he simply squeezes Wonwoo’s hand in his.


	9. in moderato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Let’s switch, then,” Mingyu challenges him, throwing down the gauntlet Wonwoo would have no option but to pick up. Otherwise he’s a coward, and Jeon Wonwoo isn’t a coward by any definition of the word. “Here, you can use mine,” he says, disconnecting the cable from output jack, “I play the guitar better than you anyway.”
> 
> inspired by Semicolon's teaser photos.
> 
> Wonwoo/Mingyu  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 935  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Band, Unresolved Sexual Tension, please forgive me.

“Again,” Wonwoo sighs, sounding so exasperated Mingyu doesn’t know whether to sympathise with him or get angry. “You’re still half a beat behind me, Mingyu.”

“Maybe you’re just half a beat faster,” he snips back, “you ever consider that?”

Wonwoo straightens his back and gazes at him with those deep brown eyes of his, eyebrows drawn taut, lips pressed thin. His disapproval isn’t veiled, nor is his annoyance. Mingyu returns the look with a cutting one of his own, jutting his chin out in defiance.

“You know we’re here because _you_ need extra practice, right?” the older asks, grip tight around the neck of his guitar. “Not me. _You_.”

“When I told Jeonghan-hyung I’m going to up my hours to prepare for the year-end shows,” Mingyu replies hotly, “I wasn’t asking for a babysitter.”

“Oh, _thank God_.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes and huffs. “I don’t think I’d make a fine babysitter, considering how badly I want to drown you right now.”

Mingyu is more than used to this, their passive-aggressive banter, but it’s almost midnight and he’s been forced to stand in this dimly-lit basement studio for the last six hours with Wonwoo as his sole company. This already drives him crazy enough as it is, so Wonwoo’s words are just adding fuel to the blazing fire.

“Let’s switch, then,” Mingyu challenges him, throwing down the gauntlet Wonwoo would have no option but to pick up. Otherwise he’s a coward, and Jeon Wonwoo isn’t a coward by any definition of the word. “Here, you can use mine,” he says, disconnecting the cable from output jack, “I play the guitar better than you anyway.”

He doesn’t expect Wonwoo to laugh at the taunt, but that’s what he does. He laughs, he slips out of the strap holding his instrument over his shoulder, and he puts down his precious guitar gingerly back on the stand. Then he charges at Mingyu.

Mingyu’s in shock, right, because they’ve thrown curses and insults at each other before and they were way much worse than this petty exchange. Mingyu has scratched his throat _raw_ just to shower Wonwoo with obscenities he probably doesn’t deserve. Until now, not once did Wonwoo ever get physical with him.

When Wonwoo lands his first blow using his lips, he chases Mingyu’s surprised gasp back to its source—the back of his throat. Mingyu can only think that if he hadn’t disconnected the amplifier, they’d have some dissonant feedback filling the air instead of the wet sounds their mouths make as they meet in the middle. Both of Wonwoo’s hands curl on the front of his shirt, fisting tight, eyes closed just as tightly. Mingyu thinks he looks downright beautiful, until Wonwoo opens his eyes and _beautiful_ is no longer a word that does him justice.

“Holy fuck, Jeonghan-hyung was right,” Wonwoo whispers lowly upon separation. “All the unnecessary bickering we’ve been doing,” he says to Mingyu, still half-distracted by the epiphany he’s just had, “that’s just unresolved sexual tension.”

His palms flatten across Mingyu’s chest before Wonwoo moves them down, down, down. Their fingers interlink and Mingyu gets whiplash from what Wonwoo just said, how neither of them recoils from the touch, how Wonwoo just kissed him and is now holding Mingyu’s hand so naturally.

“Let’s go.”

Mingyu’s brain takes a moment to catch up.

“What? Wait. Where are we going?”

“We’re going to resolve it,” Wonwoo says firmly. “And then—”

“What?” Mingyu demands, yanking his hand away even though it aches something inside him to separate from Wonwoo. “No way in hell. I’m not sleeping with you.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow in question. “Why not?”

Because Mingyu likes him. There, that’s the truth. When he started this line of work, Mingyu swore up and down that he’d stay professional no matter what, that he’d never go home with his fans, that he’d never risk fucking things up that way, but he’s forgotten to include his bandmates in that stupid oath. It’s not like Wonwoo makes it easy for him either. It pushes Mingyu to the edge of sanity, the way Wonwoo’s neck would shine with lines of sweat after a good jamming session, the tensed tendon there asking, no, _begging_ to be bitten. Wonwoo’s slender fingers flexing across the frets, red bottom lip trapped between white teeth in his concentration.

“Because,” Mingyu pauses. “ _Because_.” Ah, this is stupid.

“I see,” the older says softly, features lighting up with… recognition? Understanding?

Wonwoo reaches for his hand again. Mingyu’s mistake is that he lets him do what he wants, because Wonwoo traces his thumb over the indentations Mingyu’s nickel and steel alloy strings leave on his fingertips before he kisses him there.

“Did you hear what I said?” Mingyu takes his hand away once more. “I said _no_.”

Wonwoo lifts his gaze to meet Mingyu’s eyes. “You have an awful habit of not letting me finish my sentences. I never said sex is the only thing I wanted, did I?” He closes in again, mouth brushing Mingyu’s cheekbone, the ghost of a smile forming across skin and Mingyu has never wanted anything more than to be haunted.

“Come on, then,” quips Wonwoo in a light breath as he walks toward the exit. “Or else you’re going to be late to our first date, Kim Mingyu.”

He’s so glad that Wonwoo’s already out of the studio because he almost forgets to put down his bass in his haste of running after him. Mingyu trips twice on fucking amp cables and nearly blinded himself on the doorknob, but hey—Wonwoo’s worth it.


	10. วันนี้ฉันจะบอกเธอให้รู้ตัว (today, i will let you know)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > He gets yanked to the side the moment he exits the cab, not in Mingyu’s excitement of showing him what he has in store for them, but because there’s a car coming up right behind their vehicle and Wonwoo was right in its path. Mingyu’s arm around him feels like a fortress, a place in which Wonwoo can let his guard down and be as vulnerable as he wants.
>> 
>> And he does want.
> 
> Wonwoo/Mingyu  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 2,082  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Compliant, Yearning in Big, Bold Letters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title taken from the song [How Can I Resist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=52&v=Nj_JSiEZJEk&feature=emb_logo) by Lipta | English translation of lyrics [here](https://deungdutjai.com/2009/04/13/%E0%B8%9B%E0%B8%8F%E0%B8%B4%E0%B9%80%E0%B8%AA%E0%B8%98%E0%B8%AD%E0%B8%A2%E0%B9%88%E0%B8%B2%E0%B8%87%E0%B9%84%E0%B8%A3-patiset-yahng-rai-by-lipta/)

There’s something about the air in this city that hits different for him. Right about now, it’s about to get cold back home, the sun is starting to become shy and the second digit of the daily temperature playing hide and seek as it wishes. But here? Here is hot. Here is humid. Here is lethargy personified; Wonwoo doesn’t want to move unless he absolutely has to.

And yet, somehow, the people here are as lively as always. They continue to be active even at this time of the night, filling the night air with loud chatters, boisterous laughter, and car honks coming in repeated verses. Mingyu, of course, absorbs the atmosphere of whichever place his physical shell currently resides in as though his sole purpose is to conquer every inch of this world. If he puts his mind to it, Wonwoo is sure there is nothing the younger wouldn’t be able to achieve.

That includes dragging Wonwoo out from the comfort of their air-conditioned hotel room in the name of adventure. He asked, in the beginning, with an excited glimmer in his eyes that was already hard to refuse. Wonwoo stayed quiet for a bit; a test of endurance. Not Mingyu’s, _his_. He wanted to know his own limits, wanted to know what it would take from Mingyu to get him to yield.

Turned out it wasn’t much.

It wasn’t much at all.

It was a shy smile, a camera held gently in large hands Wonwoo wished so badly to hold, and the words _I want to take pictures of you_.

So he picked up his own camera, grabbed his cap and jacket, just in case the weather decides to swing from one extreme to another, then followed Mingyu out. Wonwoo didn’t ask where they were heading, didn’t even think to, because wherever the younger goes that’s where his heart surely will be.

Staying true to his words, Mingyu did take pictures of him. In return Wonwoo does the same, as other than the thrill of exploring new places, this is also part of the allure in Mingyu’s offer. He doesn’t mean the opportunity to practice his photography skills. Well, not exclusively that. He means the chance to immortalise Mingyu with a click of the shutter.

A simple act that captures the essence of the moment.

A picture that will remind Wonwoo how he felt when it was taken; when he looked into the viewfinder of the camera and found the object of his affection staring back at him.

They go to Soi Ari 1 at first, a small cafe in the corner of the street that Mingyu found through review websites. Neither of them speaks the local language, and Wonwoo is only slightly better than him in verbal English, but Mingyu puts himself between Wonwoo and the cashier when it’s their turn to place an order. He tries his best at communicating—much better than Wonwoo in people skills, he supposes—and it doesn’t take long before Wonwoo is being dragged to the second floor.

The girl at the register watches them go curiously. She might not know who they are exactly, but the air around Mingyu screams grandness even when he doesn’t try, so Wonwoo gets her. He’d stare too. He’s staring right now. 

A different person comes to deliver their order and he also lingers a little longer than necessary around them, placing the glass plate above the table like it’s made of diamonds. Again, Wonwoo understands. Mingyu remains oblivious to it all, as usual, simply grins at the waiter as a show of his gratitude. Wonwoo hears a soft gasp. Ah, yes. He’s rather acquainted with the feeling.

“Come on, then,” Mingyu tells him. “Before the ice cream melts everywhere.” He hands Wonwoo his spoon and smiles a little wider when Wonwoo thanks him.

“You’re welcome, hyung.”

After they’ve satisfied Mingyu’s craving for something sweet enough to warrant a toothache, Wonwoo expects them to walk around the area and look around for spots to take even more pictures. It doesn’t seem to be the case, because Mingyu curls his fingers around Wonwoo’s wrist, grip firm, and tugs him toward the main road. He calls for another cab and shows the screen of his phone to the driver, letting him know their destination.

Wonwoo’s instinct tells him to just go with the flow, at least for the night, as Mingyu seems to have it all planned out. He spends the first half of the 20-minutes ride looking out the window, the blinking lights along the way telling him that the city isn’t asleep nor does it show any sign of resting soon. The other half he spends looking at Mingyu, feeling as alive as the world around him, as Mingyu’s fingers have woven themselves in between his; a caress so tender yet grounding.

He gets yanked to the side the moment he exits the cab, not in Mingyu’s excitement of showing him what he has in store for them, but because there’s a car coming up right behind their vehicle and Wonwoo was right in its path. Mingyu’s arm around him feels like a fortress, a place in which Wonwoo can let his guard down and be as vulnerable as he wants.

And he does want.

He melts into the warm embrace momentarily, Mingyu’s heartbeat louder than any of the noises Wonwoo’s hearing caught before. Just as Wonwoo starts to burn up from their proximity, Mingyu leans away and tilts his head down a little to look at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu searches his eyes and Wonwoo doesn’t break away from his gaze. Another test of endurance, although Wonwoo knows his is wearing thin by each passing second. How much longer, how much longer. He wants it to end. He wants it to last forever. Which is it.

“Good, let’s go.”

Wonwoo gladly follows him as Mingyu navigates through the sea of people. He makes a turn and Wonwoo does the same. He looks back to check if Wonwoo’s still following him and Wonwoo fights the urge to say _just hold my hand if you don’t want to lose me_. He stops in front of a small store and it takes Wonwoo almost a full minute to register the place in his mind.

It’s a bookstore.

“It’s a bookstore,” Mingyu echoes Wonwoo’s thought, as if he can read his mind.

Wonwoo sincerely hopes that isn’t the case.

“There’s some vintage books here, according to what I’ve read. Some of them are in English, so I thought—”

“Sit there,” says Wonwoo.

Anyone else might have found him rude for interrupting their explanation like that, but the edges of Mingyu’s eyes are soft, and so are the corners of his mouth when they’re tugged upward. He follows Wonwoo’s direction, the pointing of his finger. Wonwoo fiddles with his aperture settings before he lifts the camera to his face. Mingyu looks right through the lens and at _him_.

He takes the picture.

One for the catalogue of life.

“There’s actually a night market nearby the cafe before,” Mingyu tells him as they walk through the rows of books together. “They sell a lot of books there too apparently, but it’s only fully open in the weekends. Friday’s a good day to go if you're interested in a visit.”

Wonwoo picks up a book. The yellowish pages are a testament of its long journey, they feel coarse underneath his fingertips. A flimsy thought crosses at the back of his mind. Books are windows to the world, just as eyes are windows to the soul. Windows are supposed to _open_ things and lets one gain access to the other side. Yet when Wonwoo tries to gauge what’s reflected in Mingyu’s orbs whenever he’s gazing at him, he comes up empty. If their story is a book, what colour would their pages be?

He takes a book home. Why? Well, because Wonwoo’s only human and he’s weak in the face of literature and Kim Mingyu. _The Tale of Khun Chang Khun Phaen,_ the title reads. There’s a small sticker on the front cover that says the book has won an international prize before, which is more than enough to convince Wonwoo to purchase it.

And here’s where his expectations meet reality. They wander along the streets with an ease that comes from the other’s companionships. Their steps light, their focus laser-sharp for anything that’s worth taking shots of, their distance achingly close but never quite close enough.

Mingyu is handsome like this when he’s truly enjoying himself. He’s handsome when Wonwoo first laid eyes on him, handsome whenever Wonwoo lays eyes on him now. Handsome under the worst of lighting, handsome as the pale moonlight illuminates his features.

There’s something about the air in Bangkok that hits different for Wonwoo—and it becomes evident to him just _what_ as they see two men kissing on the side of the road. No one pays attention to the scene, as if it’s a part of life that is so mundane it’s not worth noting, but Wonwoo’s throat itches with his longing.

“Hyung?”

Mingyu’s noticed that Wonwoo’s stop walking, so he follows his line of sight.

They’re looking at the same thing, Wonwoo knows they are. The taller man is pulling his partner close by the waist, body arching into his. They’re smiling into the kiss before it turns into a full-blown grin, the sweet exchange ended with a note of laughter. How sweet happiness is when shared between two; almost as sweet as the ice cream they had at the cafe before.

“Hyung,” Mingyu says again, tone undecipherable.

He turns his gaze to Mingyu and his resistance crumbles slowly but surely. Is that hope? Wonwoo can’t tell—can’t know for sure, but he’s about to make the biggest leap of faith he’s ever had to take.

A few feet feels like an entire ocean between them, then Wonwoo finally manages to close the distance. He throws his arms around Mingyu’s neck. Their hats, which was worn for the purpose of concealment, clash and reveals Wonwoo’s haste instead. He pays it no mind, because right now Mingyu’s lips are firm against his. They’re chapped, but they’re warm.

Wonwoo is in a foreign setting, in a foreign country, committing a foreign act.

Mingyu’s kiss tastes like familiarity.

His hands rest the small of Wonwoo’s back as Wonwoo’s own slide across his nape. It’s a premiere of sorts, since they’ve never done this before, and Wonwoo’s never one to fantasise about how their first kiss would go in fear that he’d lose himself in it, but this… this is magic to him. Magic beyond the simple joy of experiencing something for the first time. This is the culmination of the years spent under the spell Mingyu’s cast on him, putting Wonwoo in an entranced-like state he has yet to come out of and probably never will.

This is Mingyu sealing his fate.

He breaks free of Mingyu, but only for a second. The second time around, it’s Mingyu who walks up the bridge, now secured there by a precedent and forgoing the need for a jump to get to the other side of the chasm. He makes his way to Wonwoo and brings the older man in for another kiss.

“You drive me crazy,” Mingyu murmurs over the curve of Wonwoo’s lips.

They still tingle from the ghost of Mingyu’s mouth fitted there, perfectly right in the gaps between.

“ _I_ drive _you_ crazy?” Wonwoo demands, pretending to be upset over the statement.

“You have no idea how hard it is to resist... this. You.”

Oh, but Wonwoo does, doesn’t he?

“Then don’t resist.”

Mingyu pulls away, now holding Wonwoo’s face in his hands, as delicately as he would a camera. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

Just like no one paid attention to the couple before, no one spares the two of them a second glance. It’s crazy, Wonwoo thinks, it’s as though they’re ignoring a loud explosion or the shifting of a major tectonic plate. His entire universe is realigning and no one knows of it. Perhaps it’s meant to be this way for him—devotion. An act to carry out in secret, safe from prying eyes and ears. Wonwoo’s had a long enough period of training in this, but at least from tonight onward, he won’t have to bear the burden alone. In love, in war, in life, he’ll have Mingyu.

And they’ll have Bangkok and its streets as a witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no explanations for this one hahaha i think its just me missing bangkok mostly... btw the market mingyu was referring to is called the catuchak market in case anyone's interested
> 
> apologies for errors and inaccuracies i'm sure there are many :3


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